


love song to a friend

by prevaricator



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Slice of Life, chansoo friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:59:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prevaricator/pseuds/prevaricator
Summary: Kyungsoo finds out Chanyeol's secret.





	love song to a friend

**Author's Note:**

> **TW** for depression and (off-screen) self-harm in this one.
> 
> Heads up that this is unedited. I've had it in mind since chansoo recorded Love Yourself together, but it's taken me so long I lost the original document and had to move on to Despacito.

“Hey, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says, tugging his headphones back off his ears so that he can hear Kyungsoo’s answer.

Except there is no answer, so Chanyeol turns away from his computer screen to find Kyungsoo focused on the screen of his phone, knees pulled up so that his feet are on the edge of his chair like always. His earbuds are connected to the phone but sitting in his lap, and his eyes are flicking from side to side in the creepy way they do when he reads.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol says again.

Kyungsoo still doesn’t look up. Chanyeol’s not sure why he stays, hanging around Chanyeol’s tiny little ‘studio’ all day on a Sunday even when he’s done recording the vocals Chanyeol wanted, especially when he ignores Chanyeol half the time Chanyeol says anything. 

He refuses to ask, though, because then Kyungsoo might stop.

Rather than engage in the fun game of ‘see how many times you have to say Kyungsoo’s name to get his attention,’ Chanyeol picks up his guitar, pushing up the right sleeve of his oversized hoody to his elbow. He starts playing Despacito and watches Kyungsoo, waiting for him to start singing along.

It takes approximately a millisecond. Kyungsoo starts singing along quietly at first, still looking at his phone but nodding his head along to the rhythm.

Chanyeol waits for the rap bit before joining in, and it’s when he does that Kyungsoo finally looks up, grinning his little heart-shaped grin.

“Do you want pizza?” Chanyeol asks when the song finishes.

“Sure,” Kyungsoo says.

Turning back to his computer, Chanyeol opens Chrome and pulls up the pizza place’s website, clicking over to the deals page.

“Would you rather skip the sausage or the peppers?” He asks. “There’s only a two-topping deal this time.”

“Peppers,” Kyungsoo says.

It’s not his turn to pay, so he doesn’t offer. Chanyeol does the same mental fist pump he does every other week when Kyungsoo doesn’t try to pay for everything. 

“How’d your date go last week?” Kyungsoo asks.

“Same as always,” Chanyeol says.

He sighs and removes his headphones from around his neck, setting them carefully on his desk. His date had tried her hardest not to grimace as she asked after his career plans and didn’t get the nice, responsible answers she wanted, and Chanyeol had tried his hardest not to grimace as he asked after her hobbies and didn’t get the signs of life he wanted. 

She hasn’t texted him since the date, and he hasn’t texted her. The usual. 

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo says.

Chanyeol nods and doesn’t say anything else. There’s nothing else to say that Kyungsoo hasn’t already heard. Kyungsoo hasn’t gone on any dates for him to ask after, either. It’s a shame, when Chanyeol’s last ten dates would surely all love to find a sweet, stable CPA to marry. 

Ten dates over ten months, because Chanyeol doesn’t have time for dating but can’t bring himself to give up on the idea of love just yet.

The pizza comes, and Chanyeol grabs plates and napkins on the way back from answering the door and hands one of each to Kyungsoo. 

Hoodies are expensive, and grease stains are forever, so Chanyeol doesn’t stop to think before shoving the left sleeve of his hoody up to match his right, to try to protect it from pizza grease. It’s only when Kyungsoo stares at his arm while Chanyeol separates three pieces of pizza from the pie and sets them on his plate that Chanyeol realizes his mistake.

There’s a bruise there. He follows Kyungsoo’s gaze to it, even though he knows exactly what it looks like. He’d put the hoody on to cover it because there are never any lies that ring true, and Kyungsoo always seems to know everything.

He waits for Kyungsoo’s eyes to widen, for any sign of the alarm or disgust he’s accustomed to when people catch him like this, but Kyungsoo just sighs and takes a bite of his pizza. After a moment, Chanyeol does the same. 

“Boss got on my case again for not ‘showing enough initiative,’” Chanyeol says conversationally, voice light like it hadn’t left him upset enough to give himself bruises earlier in the week. It’s odd, the way intense emotions build up, then give way to apathy in the face of no solution.

Chanyeol is twenty-seven, and he knows that this is his life. He’ll probably always be on the edge of being fired, always because he doesn’t care enough about his job, because he goes to work to pay for the life he has outside of it. He’s an administrative assistant, for crying out loud; what do they expect?

That’s not really the part that bothers him; it’s the part where this is always going to be his life because he’s not good enough to cut it at being a professional musician. The monotony of it all eats away at him, especially on days when he gets home so late his choices are to make music or get enough sleep, and then he’s chastised at work for looking tired the next day.

“Your boss,” Kyungsoo says. “Is a gigantic fuckwad, and I hope he rots in hell.”

Chanyeol smiles and takes another bite of his pizza. 

“Hey, Yeol?” Kyungsoo says several minutes later, voice going up into an unusually tentative pitch.

“Hmm?” Chanyeol asks. 

“You make me happy,” Kyungsoo says. “I…guess I just want you to know that. I like spending time with you.”

If it’s odd how his emotions fade to apathy in the face of constant unhappiness after a while, it’s even odder how they come pouring back out when someone says something nice. Chanyeol wants to say thanks and go back to having fun, pretend that Kyungsoo, of all people, didn’t just get sappy, but instead his eyes are welling with tears, and he’s trying to blink them away before they make it into his nose and bring on the gross sniffles.

He doesn’t succeed, and Kyungsoo grabs the tissues from his bathroom, passing one to Chanyeol and guiding him to the bed—because Chanyeol can’t afford enough space for a bed and his music equipment and a couch, and he’s too lazy to fold his futon up before Kyungsoo comes over. 

Kyungsoo wraps him in a hug that would probably make Chanyeol feel small if there was ever any hope of Chanyeol feeling small, and Chanyeol gives up on trying not to cry harder. 

“We should record Despacito next week,” Kyungsoo says, when Chanyeol can breathe evenly again. “Put it on YouTube.”

“Really?” Chanyeol asks.

“Really. I bet we could get Baekhyun and Jongdae in on it, too.”

“Nah,” Chanyeol says. “It should just be you and me. They’ll probably get jealous and do their own version, and it won’t be half as good as ours.”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says. “That’s exactly what’ll happen.”


End file.
